


The Price of Power

by TheGrinch



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Forced Marriage/s, Gen, House Lannister, Missing Scene, Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting, Wine, s3e05: post-marriage discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18417797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGrinch/pseuds/TheGrinch
Summary: After Tywin Lannister informs Cersei and Tyrion of their respective arranged marriages the two siblings share some wine and words.





	The Price of Power

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all,
> 
> I love GOT but have never written anything for it. This popped into my head after watching the episode in the run up to the (at last, so excited) airing of season 8. The scene took on a life of its own and didn't totally go how I'd originally envisaged it, but considering I wrote this as a revision break piece of work, I guess it'll do. I love the chemistry between Cersei and Tyrion, Lena and Peter are amazing actors! I hope you like this. Please feel free to comment and leave any feedback! Mistakes are most defintely my own and I own nothing but this little post-scene idea. I hope parts of the scene tone came through how and when the two choose to drink and the way in which the mind battle is being played in the scene. Also, fingers crossed they don't seem OOC, but let me know!
> 
> Happy reading! TG

‘My children,’ Tywin exhaled and surveyed two of his greatest failures. ‘You’ve disgraced the Lannister name for far too long.’

The sound of the door clicking shut reverberated through the room and Tyrion did not miss how Cersei flinched. For a moment neither of them said anything nor moved from their seats. The Master of Coin wondered which of them was receiving the worse deal; neither of them desired their assigned betrotheds’ and Tyrion did not need to ask to know the sentiment would be shared by Sansa and Loras as well. 

‘He can’t do this,’ Cersei whispered, though Tyrion wasn’t sure if the statement was directed at him or merely the voicing of her thoughts to herself. ‘He can’t do this.’ 

Cersei’s eyes turned from the floor to her brother and for one of the few times in his life, Tyrion was sure that the revulsion in them was not meant for him. There was a jug of wine and glasses on a table nearby, untouched of course during his father’s presence, but now that the great and fearsome Tywin Lannister had left there was nothing to halt his so-named disgraceful children from indulging themselves. Tyrion could feel the pointed gaze of his sister following his movements and when he filled two glasses she made no noise of complaint or appreciation. 

‘I think, dear sister, you’ll find that he can,’ Tyrion placed Cersei’s glass on the heavy table. ‘And will.’

‘Who does he think he is?’ Cersei’s question was answered by her glugging a sizeable portion of her drink and finding no better answer, Tyrion followed suit. ‘I’m Queen Regent!’

Tyrion paused, raised an eyebrow and swallowed. ‘Yes, you said that. And it proved as effective as Ned Stark’s honour.’

The hot gaze of his sister was no longer aimed at their father but him. Tyrion waited for the snide remark; instead Cersei clicked her tongue, leaned back in her chair, sighed and drunk her glass dry. 

‘Ned Stark. Lord Eddard Stark. If Robert hadn't asked him to be Hand none of this would ever have happened,’ The glass chimed as it thudded onto the table. Tyrion downed the remaining contents of his glass and moved to refill them both. ‘None of it.’

A snort escaped Tyrion’s lips. ‘Ned Stark? If Jon Arryn hadn't died none of this would have happened. Honourable Ned Stark could have remained a relic hero in Winterfell, Robert would be fucking and drinking his way to death still, I could have joined him and you could have enjoyed Jaime undisturbed.’ 

While he had spoken, Cersei began tapping the table lightly with her fingertips. At Tyrion’s final statement she stopped. ‘As father said, disgusting rumours.’

‘Yes, of course, to everyone,’ Tyrion sipped his glass. ‘Except you and I, Jaime, dead Ned Stark and Jon Arryn. Oh, and, probably the majority of the Small Council and most of the Seven Kingdoms.’

Cersei had not touched her glass. Tyrion tilted his oversized head, raised an eyebrow and stared at Cersei’s empty eyes upon him. He chuckled mirthlessly.

‘I have not confessed in almost twenty years, I don't intend to start now,’ It was Cersei’s turn to snort, followed by her inhalation of her wine. ‘I mean it. I could give a fuck about you, I hate you and the feeling is mutual. I care nothing about the family legacy or any of what father wants, he can’t live forever and once he’s dead we could do as we please—’

‘As if we could ever do as we please, father’s ghost would haunt us—’

‘Well, it’s a good thing I don’t believe in ghosts then.’

They remained in silence for a few seconds until Cersei put her glass down and leaned closer to her brother, as close as the table between them would allow. Tyrion wasn’t sure if it was the wine in his glass or the lingering taste on her breath that he could smell. Her eyes narrowed, allowing only green slits visible as though she were a cat, and her jaw hardened despite the tender tone which followed.

‘Why haven't you admitted it? Everyone would believe you. Father could never hope to silence the truth if it came from you.’

‘There’s many reasons, only one which truly matters right now,’ Tyrion leaned back. ‘I may hate you but I love your children. Not Joffrey, of course, he’s a monster only a mother could love. You don’t even deny it, but Myrcella? Tommen? I love them and they don’t deserve to be punished for the acts of their parents. They are good. Pure. Beautiful, somehow though Gods know how. And though the world will tell them of the disgusting rumours between you and their Uncle Jaime, I will never allow myself to turn those rumours into fact.’

Eventually Cersei laughed, it caught Tyrion off guard and he shifted uncomfortably as his sister straightened her body and picked up her own glass. He would never expect a ‘thank you’ from her, that would be too much for her to stomach, perhaps a small nod or rare twitch of the mouth upwards which conveyed an entire conversation in it. A laugh though? 

‘Oh, look at us. Tywin Lannister’s children, a dwarf and a brother-fucker. We’re the envy of the realm,’ Cersei cackled and Tyrion chuckled. ‘We should have been born Targaryens.’

‘If we were born Targaryens, you would have had Jaime but you’d be twice as mad,’ Tyrion stood up to refill the glasses with the remainder of the wine. ‘And I would have been tossed into the Blackwater as soon as I was born.’

‘I see no problem in that,’ Cersei gave a toothy grin, lips pulled back into a gleeful sneer.

The brief lightness was gone and Tyrion felt the weight of reality joining them at the table. The jug chittered against the silver tray as he haphazardly deposited it back and slumped for the final time into his chair. 

‘You never fail to say the most charming things, I’m sure your wonderful wit and humour will make Loras Tyrell a very happy man,’ Tyrion interlaced his fingers as Cersei’s grin fell to the rush of fury. ‘The brother-fucking Queen Regent and sodomite heir of Highgarden, it will be a marriage like no other.’

Cersei huffed and cradled her glass after taking a sip from it. A smile slid onto her face as she swallowed.

‘Bested only by the union of the drunken, lecherous imp of Casterly Rock and the bitch daughter of the traitorous House Stark.’

Tyrion chuckled and smacked his lips together with a hum. ‘It’s good, for you, but I just don’t think it has the same degree of wit or spark as my own declaration. Yours is too long and much less effective. I’ll allow you some time to work on it though, I know these things take you longer to do well than I. And “imp of Casterly Rock”? Have you forgotten I’m Master of Coin? Try something with that, if you can.’

Cersei’s smile slipped away as quickly as it came to be replaced by her usual mask of petulant spite while Tyrion’s smile only increased. They stared at one another, waiting. 

‘She’ll never let you fuck her, you know. Little dove would never let a little beast like you take her maidenhead, let alone give you a child,’ Cersei drank the last of her glass dry. ‘She’s far too beautiful and proud to ever let you touch her. She’s wasted on you.’

‘If you can fuck a child into her you’re welcome to marry her instead, I want no part in it. She’s an innocent child who deserved better than your bastard and better than a creature like me,’ Moments later Tyrion’s empty glass joined Cersei’s on the table. ‘But if I must marry her, I shall try to care for her. Give her some measure of happiness—’

‘What happiness could you hope to give her?’

‘After what this war has done to her and her family, probably none. But I’ll have tried, which is more than I can say Loras will do for you—’

‘I will not marry Loras Tyrell,’ Cersei stood up, curving across the table, palms almost clutching the wood and looked down upon her brother. ‘It will not happen.’

Tyrion regarded his sister, shrugged and stood up gently. 

‘Perhaps not, you may get your wish. You must realise though, father will never allow you any real power. Joffrey already hardly listens to you. Soon you will be Queen Mother than Regent and he wedded to Margaery Tyrell. A more beautiful queen she most certainly shall be. And once he’s married, do you think Joffrey will listen to you at all? Tommen will be married off to a suitable highborn daughter of someone or other, perhaps a Martell or another Tyrell, a choice for which you will not be consulted. Jaime may never return to grace your arms or your bed and if he does he will not be the same man. You may take other men to your bed but none of them will love you like Jaime. Myrcella will hardly know you when she next sees you. Your life here will be meaningless and empty; you’ll be no happier than if you had gone to Highgarden. Your only comfort shall be a ceaseless supply of wine.’

With that Tyrion turned away and followed his father’s footsteps. He did not look back until Cersei called his name softly, intrigue stopping him but a handful of steps from the door. There was a stiffness in Cersei’s body, a brittleness than a solidity which left her shaking as though she would break suddenly, and her face was pulled together in a mix of scorn, contemplation and melancholia. Tyrion waited, then at last her eyes fixed on him than his chair. 

‘You may be right, you usually are,’ Cersei licked her lips and grinned. ‘But at least I will live on though knowing I have been loved.’

Tyrion walked on to the door, opened it and looked back. ‘So will I.’

Cersei sneered. ‘A whore’s love is worthless.’

‘Not to the unloved.’

The door echoed shut behind Tyrion and silence stretched the cold corridor.


End file.
